Every Year
by Masked Manipulator
Summary: I hold a party every year, go all out on the celebration, and almost everyone comes. But my brother doesn't. He never comes. Not for over 60 years. He doesn't even do it the justice of hating the day- he ignores it.


The date is August 15th, and the quiet pub is almost empty. Historical, a favored drinking spot for nations through the years, on days like this, it is abandoned.

The scattered lights are dim, glowing a warm orange rather than a bright yellow. The walls, floor, and furniture are worn. The atmosphere is gloomy and serious.

It's an old one, and it has seen many older countries come and go. The barkeeper has seen Arthur Kirkland every Fourth of July, Ivan Braginski and Yao Wang several times a month, Francis Bonnefoy with... Matthew, yes, Matthew Williams.

The Bad Touch Trio is in a corner, finishing up a round of drinks, about to leave for the night. As they leave, someone else enters .

It's a person the man hasn't seen before. He has chestnut hair, dark eyes, and is tall. He has an ahoge- one that seems to have a sad face on it.

"So who might ye be?"

"Im Yong-Soo, sir. I embody the Republic of Korea." The voice is quiet, preoccupied.

"So what'll ye have?" He doesn't hold up with fancy titles- he assumes that it's one of the Koreas.

The Korean scans the menu, and brightens up.

"Soju, if you have it. It originated in Korea, y'know." The volume of his voice has heightened, and a look of happy pride lights up his face. With a click, the barkeep recognizes him.

"Aye, it did. So ye're South Korea, eh?"

He nods, but soon sinks back into his serious mood.

"Here ye are." He pulls the sweet spirit out from under the counter along with a glass.

"Thank you." The Asian counts money into his palm, and downs his first glass.

The bartender sits and waits for him to start talking- they always did. He's alarmed when the nation looks tipsy after just the second glass.

"T'day... Today is my birthday." Ah. He wonders why the boy is here, then. From what he's seen, the nation is a social one.

"I hold a party every year, go all out on the celebration, and almost everyone comes. But my brother doesn't. He never comes. Not for over 60 years. He doesn't even do it the justice of hating the day- he ignores it. Not a card, not a simple 'happy birthday'... Not to his very own brother." He thinks he knows where this is going. Arthur Kirkland had held out for over 200 years before caving in to go to America's birthday celebrations.

The nation looks down into his glass before continuing in a whisper. "He hates me. It makes me really sad- we were inseparable when we were younger. But not-" His voice cracks, and he has to pause a moment.

"Not since the independence. Am- Am I so bad? Does he hate me that much?"

xixix

x-Every-Year-x

xixix

An hour later, and the country is smashed, murmuring incoherent variations of what he'd said earlier. The barkeeper moves to the back, browsing through a book of nation's numbers. After a moment of contemplation, he selects a Japanese one.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Good evening, Japan. Where might ye be?"

"...At Korea's...for his...birthday. Though I haven't seen the host for awhile."

"Ah. Could ye come to the pub-"

"Is it Hong Kong again? I'll take him off your hands-"

"No. It's South Korea."

Silence, and he can almost see the small Asian stiffen. "I-I'll be right over."

xixix

x-Every-Year-x

xixix

The embodiment of Japan walks into the bar. Seeing Korea, he pulls the taller nation up to lean on his shoulder.

"Honda. Do ye hate him?" He gestured to the drunk man. He doesn't think the shorter man does, but he has to be sure.

"No." The answer is instantaneous. He puts a hand to his mouth- the word had come unbidden. But then again, he could trust the tightlipped bartender, and he lets his guard slightly down.

"I never have. And I never will." His voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

"Ye should tell him that." The barkeep says, putting the glass and bottle away.

"Not yet." And an anomaly of a smile covers the Oriental man's face. "This way...at least one day a year, he will think of me."

xixix

x-Every-Year-X

xixix

Yeah, I have nooo idea where this came from. Nope, that's a lie. It came from PMing Obsessed-Language-Freak, and my sad, sad, attempt at creating a serious piece. Geh. -_-UUU  
>And yes, the bartender actually remembers Canada- he's just that awesome.<br>Uh...it'd be nice if you would take the time to review, but I'm not going to hold it against you if you don't.  
>(Flames about being sensitive to Koreans will be extinguished and disregarded. I'm Korean myself, and Yong Soo's one of my favorite characters. He's cute. ^_^)<p>

soju: a type of Korean alcohol

Moshi moshi: a typical Japanese greeting when picking up the phone


End file.
